


another film on replay

by goldcoast



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldcoast/pseuds/goldcoast
Summary: There's this beach in France, and it's the new year, and maybe, maybe things can be different now.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	another film on replay

Halfway between Cheltenham and Lisbon is a beach in southwestern France, where kids run after each other into the freezing sea, get scolded by tourists wearing two layers of jackets, and Eric watches it all from the sidelines. 

Maybe it’s naïve to hope the midpoint between his homes will feel somehow closer to whatever he’s seeking. Right now, though, with cold sand getting all over his clothes, he thinks it’s good enough. There’s an edge of solitude to his impromptu holidays in Mimizan, but it’s been like that with everything, lately. 

His phone chimes with a message.

_You alright?_

He has no idea why he wouldn’t be at least okay. He tells Dele as much. 

_Just weird when you disappear like that_ , Dele sends. Fair enough.

 _I’m fine_ , Eric writes, then erases it. _I’m going to be alright_. That feels more truthful.

_Is this about the game?_

If this were anyone but Dele, he’d simply put the phone down. It is Dele, though. _Maybe. Need some time to think about things_. 

After a while, he receives a longer text.

 _I’m sorry about it anyway. Your form has been a lot better and its not fair that you dont get the chance to show it when it matters. Nobody in the team is doing as good as we should be right now_.

Eric sighs. He wants to believe that, he really does. On the other hand, the scales and stat sheets don’t lie; he’s been atrocious this season, surgeries or not.

Before he can linger on it, Dele adds: _When I didnt get the callup I was really upset about it but I realised thats just how it is. We are a team and whatever happens to one happens to all of us. Sure we arent happy but I know you arent to blame for every single mistake we make or something dumb like that_.

It’s surprisingly sober for someone whose last words to Eric were something about engraving the case of his AirPods. _When did you get so smart, Delboy? Did I miss something?_

 _Fuck off. Im just telling the truth_.

Eric stifles a laugh. He must look like a damn lunatic, a lonely man giggling at his phone in the middle of large families and groups of friends. _Puberty has done you good. Hot AND smart? Sign me up_.

 _You would know_ , Dele shoots back.

It’s an unspoken rule that they don’t discuss the oddities of their relationship—that’s what they call _everything_ , the empty dressing room back in White Hart Lane, and to christen the new stadium, and God, in fucking St George’s Park—so openly, especially not over text messages, but the sea licks over the damp sand, taking away everything the children have written with dirty fingertips, and Eric thinks he can afford to start over like that, too.

 _You got it_ , he says boldly. _Can’t contain my crush on you anymore_.

 _Yeah yeah I know you love me_ , Dele replies, and Eric knows he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> title from home is a question mark by morrissey


End file.
